Heroin Girl
by Slayer88
Summary: This is a total AU fic. Buffy is a heroin addict who is involved with her abusive dealer, Spike. Angel is a cop on the LAPD.
1. The Beginning

Title: Heroin Girl

Summary: Alternate Universe. Buffy is a heroin addict who is involved with her abusive dealer, Spike. Angel is a cop on the LAPD.

Rating: M for drug use, language, and sexual content

Pairings: Buffy/Spike, Buffy/Angel, Willow/Oz

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Joss Whedon and 20th Century Fox.

I was seventeen when I first saw him. He was twenty-three. It happened at The Bronze, the underage club that my best friend, Willow and I liked to hang out at. He was the lead singer in the band. They were called "The Dingoes Ate My Baby" and they were the only reason we were there. Willow was dating the electric guitarist. This was the first time that Willow had invited me to one of their shows. The boy who caught my eye had short, spiked, dark hair and dark eyes. He was well built, obviously worked out a lot. He was on stage when our eyes locked and I didn't know it at the time, but that was the moment that my life began. He continued to keep his gaze locked with mine and I felt like I was the only girl in the club. It was like every song he sang was meant specifically for me.

That night, I left The Bronze long before Willow. She stayed to wait for the band to pack up their gear and as much as I wanted to stay and have her introduce me, I had a curfew to make. My mom and I had just moved to Sunnydale and she was a little over protective of me.

Later, I found out from Willow that he was a student at UCLA. He was only in Sunnydale for spring break. He went back to LA a few days after the gig. I figured that was that last I would see of him and it was… for a while.

Not long after that night at The Bronze, I meet Spike and my memories the lead singer were long forgotten. His name was actually William, but no one ever called him that. Spike had bleached blonde hair and well defined muscles. He had eyes that felt like they were digging into you. His English accent was enough to make any girl instantly fall to her knees. He could have had any girl in the club, but he chose to approach me. He was gorgeous and completely wrong for me. He was from the other side of Sunnydale, the part that my mother had forbid me from going to. Spike had access to a large amount of money and treated me like a princess. It wasn't until I was too far over my head that I found where his money came from. Life with Spike was a never ending party and I couldn't get enough of it.

The night that I met Spike was the night that I had my first drink; it was a coke and rum, and many more to follow. I lost my virginity in the same night, although I don't have any recollection of the act itself, only the morning after and the splitting headache that came with it.

About a month later, I smoked marijuana for the first time. The high was amazing. By now, I was so in love that I would have jumped off a cliff if Spike asked me too. I felt like I was floating and when Spike and I made love, or at the time, what I thought was love making, my whole body responded. After that, I don't remember having sex with him when I wasn't high.

I became obsessed with getting high. I skipped school; I broke plans with my mother and my friends. I would do anything it took to get high with Spike. I stopped coming home at night and pretty much lived at his apartment, only leaving the bedroom to go to parties where I would get high and drunk all over again. I thought my life was amazing. I didn't have any responsibility. I was free and I wouldn't let anyone control me, except for Spike of course. It wasn't long before my mom kicked me out of the house, which, at the time, I didn't really mind. I wasn't ever home anyway. I was ecstatic to move in with my perfect bad boy boyfriend. After I moved in, I found out he was a dealer. He swore to me that he only sold pot, so it didn't really bother me much.

A few more months passed by and I got bored with the usual high. I wanted to feel more. When I asked Spike to get his hands on a more extreme drug, he didn't hesitate to comply. In fact, he didn't have to go any farther than his sock drawer to get some. That should have been my first sign that he was selling more than he had admitted to.

That night we went to a college rave with the ecstasy he provided. What I felt that night, I don't think I will ever be able to put into words. My whole world was on fire. I felt like I was in love with everybody in the room, although I'd never actually met the majority of them. For the first time in my life, I was completely happy.

Spike and I moved to Los Angeles. He hated the small town life in Sunnydale and by that time, I had lost all my friends and family anyway so nothing was holding me down. He promised me Hollywood parties, unlimited drugs, and a constant high. I pictured that we would have the celebrity lifestyle. We were going to be together for ever in our little fucked up fairytale.

We lived in a small place in North Hollywood. I'd never been there before the move and I'm imagined it too look like what I had seen in 90210 reruns. That didn't turn out to be the case. Our apartment building was constantly covered in graffiti and gangs made a frequent appearance on our street. Spike, however, enjoyed the location. He had a lot more customers in LA than he had in Sunnydale.

We celebrated our first night in LA with my first use of heroin. At first I was nervous as I had never injected a substance into my body before, but with a little coaxing from Spike, I shot the drug up into my arm. There hasn't been a day in my life since that I wish I could take that moment back, but I guess if I'd never tried it, our paths wouldn't have crossed. As soon as the warming and relaxing feeling of my newest high wore off, I was starving for more. In one simple shot, I'd gone from having some control over my life to absolutely none. I would do anything to get my hands on the drug.

Our happily ever after, drug addicted, story didn't last and I should have figured it wouldn't have. Spike started sleeping around, or at least he stopped hiding the fact that he was cheating from me. He would leave for weeks at a time, not leaving me with any food or money. It was during these disappearances that I would trade blow jobs and other sexual favors for drugs, or money that I would spend on drugs. When he was home, our frequent fights consisted of screaming matches, throwing furniture, and him beating the shit out of me, but by this time, I was in too deep to leave. I was a high school drop out with no job and a drug addiction. I comforted myself on the bathroom floor with my heroin. The high was getting harder to get and I had to shoot up more and more heroine to feel anything at all. I became completely numb and when I was without it, I began to experience withdrawals. My body needed the drug as much as it needed oxygen.

One night, we were at a party in Beverly Hills. I didn't know anyone who lived in that part of town, but Spike had some buyers there. One of them asked Spike to attend his house party and bring some of his best stuff. The second we arrived, I felt out of place. My torn up jeans and t-shirt didn't exactly fit in with the hundred dollar outfits the girls at this party wore. No one bothered to talk to me; all I got were stares and whispers. I was well aware of my appearance. In the past months, I had gone from homecoming queen to street girl. My hair was stringy and I was in desperate need of a shower. If Spike had stayed with me and escorted me around, I'm sure I would have been treated differently. People respected Spike. As soon as we walked in the door, Spike had left me alone while he went in search of his buyer. About an hour later, I found him making out with a skinny brunette who was straddling him on the couch. His hand was up her dress and buried in her crotch. I quickly found an empty bathroom. I locked the door and settled in with my little bag of powder.

When the LAPD raided the party, I was half conscious and too far gone to care. Most of my memories of that night are surreal and fuzzy, but this part, I will never forget.

"Open up," a man yelled, banging on the door.

I didn't move. I couldn't even if I willed myself too. I remained unmoved, curled on a ball, on the cold tile flooring.

He bust the door open, breaking the lock in the process and two police officers entered the bathroom.

I didn't bother to look at them. My mind set in panic mode. I started to yell for Spike but the words came out muffled and slurred.

"She's pretty out of it," said one of the officers.

The other officer knelt down next to me. "Miss, can you understand me?" he asked. Despite my state, his words were soft and gentle.

I nodded my head weakly.

"What are you using?"

My mouth was dry and when I opened it to speak, the words wouldn't come out.

He pointed to the needle that I'd left on the floor. "Is that yours?"

I nodded.

"I think we better take her into the station," he said to the other officer and he lifted me into his arms.

My mind was telling me to run, but my body couldn't move. I knew what the consequences of my actions would be, but I didn't care. My muscles relaxed into the warmth of his body. It wasn't until he placed me into the back seat of his police car that I finally looked at his face. With one glance at his perfect features, that night at The Bronze rushed back to me. It was him. He was the lead singer.

Author's Note: Please let me know what you think. Also, I've never done any drugs, so if I got any of the details wrong, please let me know.


	2. Detective Liam Angel O'Conner

The interrogation room at the Los Angeles police department had a very cold atmosphere to it. I was sitting in a metal folding chair with a long table in front of me. The cement walls and flooring had a dungeon like feel to them, but I guess prison isn't supposed to be homely.

I'd spent the rest of the night in a cell with four other girls and it had been six hours since my last fix. I'd broken out into a cold sweat and my whole body was shivering. I needed to get my hands on some smack soon.

After fifteen minutes, but what felt like hours, of waiting, the door to the interrogation room opened and the lead singer/cop entered the room. Now that I was sober, I could make out his features a little better. He looked just as good as he did that night at The Bronze. His chocolate eyes bore into me, just as they had when he sang to me, or at least I thought he was singing to me. Up close, he was much taller than he appeared to be. I guessed he was over six feet tall, giving him almost a foot over me.

"Hi Buffy," he greeted.

I was surprised that he knew my name and it panicked me a little bit. What else did he know about me? Would he trace me to Spike? Would he know that I was a runaway teenager and send me back to Sunnydale? I had just turned eighteen, so legally I was an adult, but I was only seventeen when I ran away.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, trying to keep my voice cool.

"I confiscated your purse when I arrested you. I checked your identification. I did some research and now I have a whole file dedicated to you," he said, indicating the manila folder in his hand. He sat down across the table and opened the folder.

"Your full name is Buffy Anne Summers, your parents are Joyce and Hank Summers, who are legally divorced. You dropped out of Sunnydale High School your senior year and your mother reported you missing soon after. You just celebrated your eighteenth birthday on January nineteenth," he read through his notes. "Happy Birthday," he added.

"I guess you know all about me then."

He paused for a moment, staring at me with a somewhat puzzled look on his face.

"Well, there is still one question I have. You see, you look really familiar, but I can't pinpoint where I know you from. Your name doesn't ring a bell either," he stated.

Could he have possible remembered me from that night? I was just some meager high school girl drooling over the lead singer in a band. I'd figured he'd gone back to UCLA and forgotten all about me.

"I saw you play once with The Dingos. I used to be friends with Willow Rosenberg," I stated.

"That girl was you?" he replied, shocked. "Wow, you look a lot different now."

I was well aware my appearance had changed. I didn't look anything like the girl from The Bronze. I'd lost a lot of weight since that night. I'd gone from a healthy one hundred and ten pounds to a sickly eighty. I didn't eat much anymore because Spike was spending all our food money on drugs, not that I minded. My hair had gone from thick to thin and it had fading streaks of pink. My eyes were sunken in and my whole structure was boney. My clothes probably didn't help either. A year before, I'd cared about wearing nice clothes, but my current clothes were ripped and dirty. Looking back, I'm surprised I'd even been somewhat familiar to him.

"So what's my sentence?" I asked, changing the subject to the dreaded topic.

He sighed. "Well, against my better judgment, I'm going to let you off with a warning. You weren't selling anything and you weren't doing any damage to anyone but yourself," he said, trying to convince himself that letting me off was ethical. "But," he continued, "I'd like some answers from you."

"What do you need to know?"

"Some of my witnesses say you came to the party with the dealer who supplied the drugs."

"And?" I asked, defensively. I wasn't about to give him any information about Spike, not for Spike's welfare, but for my own. If Spike found out that I told the police about him, I couldn't be sure that he wouldn't kill me himself.

He must have sensed my protective demeanor. "You aren't going to tell me anything are you?"

I shook my head.

"He goes by 'Spike' right?" he asked.

I nodded in response.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"Yeah."

He sighed. "Well, he must care a great deal about you," he stated with a hint of sarcasm. "My witnesses tell me he was the first to bolt when we showed up. Buffy, he didn't even check to see if you would be okay."

I felt my eyes water, but I forced myself to hold back my tears. I would not cry in front of him. I really didn't need to hear the harsh words out loud. I had thought the situation over in my head all night. The officer was right. Spike probably didn't even hesitate and wonder about me before he jumped the fence.

"You don't understand," I cried. "I can't tell you anything. I'm not trying to protect him. I'm protecting myself."

He took a moment to take in what I had just told him. "Buffy, does Spike ever hurt you physically?"

I looked down at my feet, but I did not speak. I knew I should have lied, but there was something about him that I found trustworthy. I could tell that he wasn't going to put me in a dangerous situation.

The cop nodded and after another minute, he stood up. "Well," he said. "I'm guessing you're probably going to need a ride home."

I nodded.

"I'll meet you at the front desk with your things," he said and walked out the same door that he had come in.

A security guard entered and escorted me through the opposite door.

At the front desk, the cop was there with my, previously confiscated, purse, just as he'd promised. He handed it to me and I checked the contents.

"Everything is there, except the gram of heroin we found. You won't be getting that back," he stated.

"I guess that makes sense," I responded, but inside I was screaming. Spike would kill me if he found out I'd lost a gram. That was eight hundred dollars worth of drugs.

"Are you ready?" he asked as he started to walk out the door. "My break is only an hour and I'd like to get some lunch, so we need to get going."

I froze. _He_ was going to drive me home. That would mean we would be taking a cop car to my house where Spike was. I'd be giving him Spike's address. Spike would kill me. "I, uh… I can just walk. I don't need a ride."

He turned around and looked at me. "Buffy, I don't mind. I have some errands to run in your area anyway."

I knew this was a bad idea, but I also didn't want to have to say goodbye to him so soon. I felt safe with him, something I hadn't felt in a very long time. I hesitantly followed him to his car.

He held the passenger door for me and I got in. It was nice not being in the backseat of the police car this time.

He went around to the driver's side, got in, and started the engine.

"You know," he said, "I was looking for you that night after our gig," he stated as he backed out of the parking spot.

I suppressed a smile at these words. He was singing to me after all. My stomach felt like it had a million butterflies.

"I had a curfew," I stated.

A grin appeared on his face. "So, you're telling me that the girl I just arrested last night for serious drug usage was worried about making her curfew?"

"That was a really long time ago."

"So what made you change so much?" His smile was no longer there.

"Well, a few days after you played at The Bronze, I met Spike and I guess things just went down hill." I continued to tell him about my mother kicking me out and about Spike and me moving to LA. I knew I was giving him too much information. I kept reminding myself that he was a police officer, but I didn't really care. I'd spent the past year avoiding the police at all costs and now here I was, telling him all my secrets and letting him drive me home.

We talked the entire way home. Well, mainly I talked and he listened, but he didn't seem bored with our conversation either. When he pulled up to my apartment complex, I desperately didn't want to get out of his car.

"Would you like me to walk you in," he asked, shutting off the ignition.

"That's probably not a very good idea." I was already asking for it, but bring a police officer to our apartment. I would be extremely lucky if Spike didn't see the car out front. If the officer walked me to our door step, I'd be dead.

I reached for the door handle, but paused and turned to him. "I just realized I still don't know your name."

He smiled the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. "I'm Angel."

I reached my arm out to shake hands with him. "It's nice to meet you, Angel. I'm Buffy."

He shook my hand and laughed. I'd just told him my entire life's story and _now_ I wanted to introduce myself. He reached into his pocket and fished out his wallet. He pulled out his business card. "Buffy, if you ever need anything… If Spike ever does anything…," he struggled for the right words. "If you need a safe place to go, please call me." He scribbled a number on the back of the card. "This is my cell number. You can call it at any hour."

I took the card from him and got out of the car. "Thanks for the ride," I said and closed the door.

Angel unrolled the passenger window. "Don't hesitate to call," he said, pointing to the business card.

I waved good bye and watched him drive off. I watched the police car until he turned the corner and was out of sight. I looked down at the business card in my hand. It read, "Los Angeles Police Department, Detective Liam "Angel" O'Conner." I turned it over to look at his perfect hand writing on the back. I shoved the card into my back pocket and headed inside, praying Spike hadn't seen the police car I'd arrived in.

I opened the door and, to my relief, all the lights were off. Spike wasn't home. He was probably out selling or getting high with another girl, but I really didn't care. All that mattered was that he wasn't home and, for the time being, I was safe.

I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I really was dirty. My hair was scraggly and greasy. My makeup from the night before was smeared across my face. I felt embarrassed that Angel had seen me like this. I turned on the shower, undressed, and cringed as I stepped into the icy cold water. Hot water was not a privilege that we could afford.

As I showered, I couldn't help, but think that if things had gone differently at The Bronze, I could've been with Angel instead of Spike. Angel probably had hot water.

Author's Note: As always, feedback is very much appreciated. Also, while you're waiting for an update, please check out some of my other Buffy/Angel AU fics, "The Right Kind of Wrong," and its sequel, "Lessons Learned."


	3. Heat

It was three days before I saw Spike again. When he walked through the door of our apartment, his eyes were bloodshot and his clothes were wrinkled, like they had been piled in heaps for a few days. He was carrying a brown paper bag, which he set down on our tiny kitchen table. When he saw me, he surprised me by smiling.

"Hey pet," he greeted me with a nickname I had not heard in a very long time and planted a long passionate kiss on my lips.

When he bent down to kiss me, I could smell the faint residue of cheep perfume. "Why are you in such a good mood?" I asked suspiciously.

"Can't I just be happy to see my girlfriend?"

"Where have you been?"

The question instantly put Spike on the defensive. "I've been getting you a job, that's what I've been doing! All you do is sit around and get high, while I pay the bills. Its time you started helping out a little!"

Spike's words threw me off. I didn't want to work. When we moved, he promised me that he would support both of us. "Then why do you smell like sex and perfume?" I asked. I knew I was asking for it, but I was angry about his job search.

"Cordelia is the owner of 'Heat'. You'll be working for her."

"Heat' as in the strip club three blocks down?" I asked, shocked.

"Do you know of any other 'Heat' around?" He responded, sarcastically. "It's called a 'gentlemen's club' and your first shift starts in an hour, so I recommend you get dressed," he stated, shoving the paper bag into my arms.

I looked inside the bag. There was a pair of black lacy boyshort panties and a matching bra. Bitterly, I took the bag and its contents into the bathroom to change, grabbing a bag of white powder from Spike's sock drawer on my way.

After dressing in the undergarments, I covered myself with a long coat and announced to Spike that I was ready to go.

"Lets take a look pet," Spike said and removed the coat. He released a low moan at the sight of me and pulled me to him. I could feel is erection poking into my stomach. "I'd take you right now, but we don't want you to be late for your first day," he stated, pushing me away from him.

I knew I should have been disgusted, but I felt really flattered. It had been a very long time since Spike had shown any sexual attraction to me at all.

I was both surprised and thankful that Spike had actually walked me all the way to the club. It was a walk that I really did not want to make when all I had on was underwear and a jacket.

When we got to Heat there was already a line of men by the front door. Spike led me around the club and to a back door. Once we were inside, we were immediately greeted by a tall brunette.

"Hi Spike." She embraced him, placing a kiss on his cheek as his hands roamed her bottom.

Annoyed, I cleared my throat loudly.

"Oh, yeah. Cordealia, this is Buffy."

Cordelia turned to face me. "Hi Buffy! I'm so glad you are joining our dance crew."

She shook my hand and I wondered if she knew I was Spike's girlfriend. She seemed much too friendly to know that I was.

"I… um… don't know that much about dancing," I stated, nervously.

"Most girls don't when they first start. Don't worry, I'll show you the ropes. You'll be dancing like a pro by the end of the night." She smiled at me.

"Well, I'm glad to see you two are getting along so well," Spike stated as he shot me a warning glare. "Buffy, I'll pick you up around two after your shift ends. I don't want you walking the streets alone at that hour."

I silently chuckled to myself at the act that Spike was putting on for Cordelia. I knew Spike didn't care what hour or neighborhood I was walking around in. I nodded and didn't say anything to argue because I didn't want to upset him and lose my escort service.

Spike gave both Cordelia and I a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the butt before walking out of the club.

After Spike left, Cordelia proceeded to give me a tour of the club, pointing out the important places, like my dressing room. She explained that I could keep all the tips I made, but customers had to pay the club directly for any lap dances.

"We only have one rule," she stated, "no boyfriends allowed. I'm sure you can understand why."

I nodded in response.

"Okay, great! You're on in five, so I'll give you a chance to get ready." I could tell that she sensed my uneasiness. "Don't worry, I'll go onstage with you, just follow my lead."

When I was dancing onstage with Cordelia, I found that it wasn't as hard as I expected. The more comfortable I got onstage, the more money people handed me. I did just as Cordelia said to and slid the money into my underwear.

I had been dancing for two hours before he walked in. He wasn't wearing his uniform, just a black t-shirt and jeans and he looked amazing. I found myself dancing dirtier to get his attention, but he didn't even look toward the stage. Instead, he looked as though he was scoping the audience. He turned to a man standing behind him and I realized he wasn't alone. He was with the same guy that had helped him bust me at the party a few days earlier. I felt chills run down my spine at the memory.

Angel looked to the other officer and pointed to a man at the bar. I kept dancing, but my eyes were glued to him as he crossed the club and made his way over to the man. I watched him pull out his badge and place the man in handcuffs. As Angel stood up to escort the man out of the club, his partner must have recognized me because he tapped Angel on the shoulder and pointed in my direction. When our eyes met, I felt Goosebumps rise up all over my body. He continued to stare at me for what seemed like forever without moving. I searched him for a reaction, but couldn't find anything. He didn't give me the smile I was hoping for, he just stared, emotionless. Finally, he turned to his partner and said something. His partner nodded and took over the arrest, leading the man out of the club. Angel sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. I waited for him to look back to the stage, but he didn't, he just sat there and stared into his drink.

I wanted him to look at me so badly. Here I was on stage, trying to be sexy and he wasn't even the least bit interested. I was crushed. I had really believed that I'd felt some kind of connection between the two of us, but his lack of interest in me made it very clear that he did not feel the same way.

I continued to dance for a little while longer until I saw Cordelia from the wings of the stage. She motioned for me to come to her and sent another girl onstage as my replacement.

"Congratulations Buffy, you just got your first lap dance!" She smiled at me.

I felt my throat dry up at her words. "What? I can't – I mean I don't know how," I stuttered.

"Relax. You'll do fine. Just run your hands through his hair and grind down a little bit. There's really nothing to it. He's waiting for you in the back room." She pointed to the private room. "You're lucky; he's a cute one too." She winked at me and walked away.

Nervously, I made my way towards the room with the "Private – Do not enter" sign on the door. I drew in a long breath of air before turning the knob and walking in. I let out a small gasp when I saw Angel, with his back toward me, examining some small detail on the red wall paper. I was shocked to see that Angel had ordered a lap dance. He really didn't seem like the kind of a guy who got lap dances or even hung out at strip clubs. With those eyes, I knew he could get laid whenever he wanted. He didn't need to pay any money to get off. Although, I can't say I wasn't flattered.

He turned to face me. "Buffy," he greeted me with a lack of emotion in his voice.

"Hi." I smiled, but he didn't return it. I was suddenly feeling very subconscious of my lack of clothing and crossed my arms over my bare stomach.

We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity of awkward silence.

"You… uh… have to sit down to do this," I stuttered nervously, pointing to the red velvet couch against the wall.

"Buffy-"

"You're my first, lap dance that is, so I'm sorry if I'm not good." The words came flying out of my mouth. As soon as I heard them, I cringed. I decided I needed to be a little sexier if I didn't want to seem like a stuttering idiot. I quickly pushed Angel down on the velvet couch and hopped in his lap, straddling his legs.

Angel's eyes were wide and I figured I must have surprised him. I began working my hips, grinding against his crotch as Cordelia had instructed.

Angel placed his hands on my hips, ignoring the no touching rule, and once again I felt the electric current between our bodies. "Buffy, I don't want a lap dance from you," he said as he pushed me to the side, off his lap.

"Oh." I felt my blood rush to my cheeks. I'd just made a complete fool of myself and he wasn't even interested. I was naive for even thinking he might have been interested. A great guy like Angel wouldn't bat an eye at a stripping junkie like me. Subconsciously I brought my knees to my chest, hiding my bare stomach as I sat next to him on the couch.

"I'm sorry. That's not what I – That came out wrong," he said quickly as he saw my disappointment. I was never very good at being able to hide my emotions. "What I meant to say was that I didn't come here for a lap dance… from anyone," he corrected himself.

"Buffy, what are you doing here?" he asked me before I had a chance to speak.

"I could ask you the same thing."

He sighed. "You saw why I was here," he responded indicating the arrest. "Why are you here?" he asked again.

"Everyone has to make a living." I tried not to let on how much I hated being there.

"Did Spike make you do this?" He read right through me.

I didn't respond. I bit down on my bottom lip. Angel's reference to Spike made me remember how much trouble I could get in if Spike knew how much information I already had given him.

"That's what I thought," he said, running his hand through his hair. "Buffy, you know my offer still stands. You can stay with me until you get on your feet."

"It's not that bad. Sometimes Spike can be a really nice guy." I knew I was stretching the truth, but Spike was nice when I first met him. Angel didn't seem to understand how much I needed Spike. He had given me a somewhat safe place to live, but most of all he was my supplier. I highly doubted that a cop like Angel would let me use his bathroom to get high in.

"Look, Angel, I really need to get back to work." I stood up and got ready to leave the room.

"You are working. I paid for a full twenty minutes," he gave me a mischievous grin and reached for my hand, pulling me back down to the couch. We were sitting much closer than we were before I had gotten up. I could feel the heat radiating off his body and it took an enormous amount of self control trying not to lean into his perfectly muscular chest.

"Let's talk," he said, taking my mind off how beautiful he was, but only for a few seconds. "I'd like to get to know you more."

"Okay." I wasn't really sure what he would want to talk about besides Spike and that was a topic I wanted to steer clear of.

"So Buffy, what's it like being a stripper?" He flashed another perfect smile, making me want him even more.

"Well, I don't really know. This is only my first day on the job."

"Yeah, I got that," he responded and both of us broke out into laughter. I probably did look pretty bad beginning that lap dance. I guess I wasn't one for setting the mood.

"What's it like being a cop?" I threw the question back at him.

"Well technically, I'm a detective," he smiled, "but I don't like to brag. It's actually pretty cool." His voice turned serious. "I mean it can be pretty scary at times, but I mainly deal with drug busts and the people I bust are usually too high to be any real danger."

"People like me," I said, remembering the state I had been a few nights ago when he arrested me.

There was a long uncomfortable silence before he continued the conversation.

"The big dealers are the most dangerous. They typically have some kind of gang affiliation and they usually carry a weapon."

When he put it that way, Spike seemed like nothing. As far as I knew, he didn't carry a gun and while a few of his friends and customers were in gangs, but he didn't belong to one.

"How badly is Spike wanted?" I asked. I really didn't want to talk about Spike, but my curiosity got the best of me.

"Well, he's on the list, but I wouldn't say he is at the top. Arresting Spike would just lead us to his supplier, who is probably much bigger and more important in the drug world."

"And I pretty much gave you his home address," I stated. I could feel a wave of fear crash over me.

Angel must have sensed my fear as well because he took my hand and held it in his much larger one and looked me straight in the eye. "Buffy, right now my biggest priority is your safety. Spike doesn't mean that much to us and I'm not going to do anything that would put you in danger."

"What about your partner?"

"Gunn doesn't even think you know Spike." He smiled another prefect smile. "According to the police report, you just happened to be at the party and experimenting with drugs for the first time."

I was flattered that Angel had gone through that much effort to cover up my tracks, but I didn't want him to get in trouble either. "Can't you lose your job for that?"

"I could, but you and I are the only ones who know I changed it and for some reason, I'm not too worried about you telling on me."

"Yeah, that's not very likely," I agreed, half jokingly.

Angel looked at his watch. "Well, it looks like my time is up." He stood up and ran his backwards through his hair, messing it up a little before he smiled at me and walked out of the room.

Twenty minutes later, when I got back on stage, I looked over to the bar. Angel had returned to the same bar stool and had a new beer in his hand, but this time his attention was focused on the stage instead of his mug. I decided to put on a little show just for him. I could almost feel his eyes burning into me as I began swinging my hips suggestively to the music. I slowly pulled my hair out of the neat ponytail it was in and let it fall over my shoulders. I forgot about everyone else in the club. I imagined it was just the two of us and I was dancing for him alone. I ran my hands through my hair before moving them down my body, tracing my breasts. I made a v shape with my hands as they moved down my stomach to the black lacy panties Spike had given me. I placed my hands on the inside of my thighs and slowly moved them down my legs until they reached the floor. I stretched my legs out until I was lying on the floor of the stage. Dollar bills were being thrown at me from every direction and I seductively slipped them underneath my panties. I spilt my legs apart and moved my hands along the inside of my thighs. I slowly made my way back to my feet and continued to dance around the stage. I looked over to the bar and to my disappointment, Angel was gone. I continued to dance for a little while, no longer feeling the excitement I felt when Angel was watching me, until my shift ended.

By the time I had gone backstage and grabbed by coat, the last of the customers had left. The club seemed so much different without anyone in it. I found it much less intimidating.

"Do you need a ride?" Cordelia asked me as we walked to the back parking lot together.

"Thanks, but I think Spike is on his way," I responded, hoping my boyfriend had remembered to pick me up.

"Okay, I will see you tomorrow then," Cordelia said after locking the doors. I watched as she made her way to her red convertible.

I watched Cordelia drive away and I sat down on the back steps of the club. I didn't realize how tired I was until I sat down. My feet were aching from the stiletto heels I had been wearing for the past six hours. I'm not sure how long I sat there, but it must have been for at least an hour. I was dozing in and out of consciousness the whole time.

"He's not coming is he?" A familiar, velvety voice said as Angel stepped out of the shadows of the club.

I was surprised to see him there as I thought he'd left at least two hours ago. "Are you following me?"

"Like I said, my number one priority is to keep you safe. There was no way I was going to let you sit on the streets in downtown L.A., in your underwear, waiting for a ride that we both knew wasn't going to come."

"He said he'd be here." I instinctively defended Spike, but I knew Angel was right.

"Why don't you let me walk you home?" Angel held out his hand to me.

"You don't have a car?" I asked, surprised that Angel would be walking around L.A. at three in the morning without a car.

I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet. My hand tingled from the feel of his soft, but tough hand.

"Gunn took it when we arrested Simpson," he said, referring to the arrest that took place earlier that evening at the club.

"Simpson?" I asked as we started walking the three blocks to my apartment.

"He's a well known drug dealer in these parts. Most of his sales happen right here at 'Heat'. We got a tip from a rival gang that he would be here tonight."

I shuddered at the thought of Angel working with gang members.

He must have seen me shudder.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"A little," I replied. After all, I didn't have anything but a bra and panties underneath my coat and it was three in the morning in January.

He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him. While I wasn't toasty, his body heat did warm me up a little.

"Is this okay?" he asked. "I'd offer you my jacket, but I left it in the car that Gunn took."

"This is fine."

When Angel walked me home, I felt completely safe. I hardly even noticed the hookers and gangs that we passed as we made our way towards my apartment. We talked all the way home and I was surprised by how easily our conversation flowed. When I was with Angel, I felt like I could be completely honest with him and he wouldn't judge me. It felt as though I was talking to a best friend I had known for years instead of a complete stranger. When we reached my doorstep, I found myself wishing I lived farther away.

"Do you have far to walk?" I asked, putting off saying goodbye.

"I'll have to get a cab."

"Do you want me to wait with you? This isn't one of the safest neighborhoods."

Angel lifted up his shirt, revealing the gun that was tucked into the waistband of his pants. "I'll be fine."

"Okay, well then I guess I will see you around," I said, sad to see him go.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"I'll be there when your shift ends." He looked up to the light that was still on in our bedroom window. "You still have my number right?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Take care of yourself Buffy." He pulled me in for a tight hug, which seemed to last a little longer than your typical friendly hug.

When he let go, I backed up to the door of the apartment. The light upstairs meant that Spike was home and I couldn't be sure he wasn't watching. "Bye," I said, in almost a whisper before opening the door and making my way to our upstairs apartment.

When I got inside, Spike was sprawled out completely naked on our bed. I figured he was asleep as I took off my coat. When I thought about the dance I had put on for Angel earlier that evening a small wave of guilt washed over me, but it wasn't a bad guilt. It was more like a guilty pleasure. My whole relationship with Angel a secret from Spike, something I had never had before. When I imagined myself with Angel, I felt like I was living a whole another life that Spike had no part in.

"Come here," Spike said from the bed, startling me out of my thoughts.

I slid into bed next to Spike.

"The money," he demanded and held out his hand.

Reluctantly, I pulled the wad of bills out of my panties and handed them to Spike.

"Good girl," Spike said as he counted the money and slipped it into his wallet.

That night, as I lay in bed next to Spike, I was already looking forward to my next shift at Heat when I would see Angel again.


End file.
